


i'll send the sun smiling through

by Cazio



Series: Concatenation [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Cazio, Depression, M/M, Post-Divorce, Stony - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts, Superfamily (Marvel), Superhusbands (Marvel), just the way i like him, so much angst people are gonna have issues, steve is just a mess of pain and suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 01:44:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3156296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cazio/pseuds/Cazio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve was going to outlive all of these people, yet here he was, just a juicy piece of gossip attending his ex husband’s wedding. </p><p>Well, past tense. <i>Attended</i> his ex husband’s wedding. The ceremony was over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll send the sun smiling through

**Author's Note:**

> thanks once again to shae for fixing this up and being an amazing beta. :3
> 
>   
> _"Life's really worth living,_  
>  _When you are mirth giving,_  
>  _Why can't I give some to you?_  
>  _When skies are gray,_  
>  _And you say you are blue,_  
>  _I'll send the sun smiling through!"_  
>  \- I Want To Be Happy, Doris Day

Buying gifts had always been difficult for Steve. In the forties, it had been difficult because he had no money—resulting in dozens of pages of his sketchbooks being turned into little gifts of artwork. After coming to the twenty-first century, he had trouble knowing what was truly going to be of use to someone.

Buying gifts for Tony had always been particularly hard.

Now he was standing in the middle of a charming New England boutique wondering what the hell he was going to buy for Tony and Jackson’s wedding.

It didn’t help that Tony had done as he said. All communication severed. No personalized Christmas card, just one with customized gold writing and a picture of Tony sticking his tongue out while Jackson pulled a hat down to cover Tony’s eyes. A cute photo, really, especially because Peter had taken it.

Peter didn’t visit anymore.

He said it was because he couldn’t just fly out to Maine on a whim, but Steve knew that was completely false. Peter had a private jet at his disposal and even if he wanted to fly coach, money was no object.

Steve had even offered to pay for a flight for a week during winter break.

_“Sorry, Pops. I’m so sorry. But I promised MJ I’d go to her family’s Christmas Eve dinner. I must’ve forgotten to tell you. I’m not coming up this year.”_

So Steve spent Christmas staring at a collection of wrapped presents under a tree that had bite marks on the trunk where Fluffernutter had decided to taste pine. Not even Bucky’s cinnamon and vodka-spiked eggnog had brought a smile to his face.

He’d had to mail those presents to MIT and Peter had only sent a “thanks for the presents, Pops!” text a week later.

The new year was rung in with the ticking of his bedside clock in the darkness as he had stared into the gloom knowing full well that this year would be the worst he had ever been through.

It was springtime now, and Tony’s wedding was finally here. Finally, all of this waiting would end.

Steve decided on a bronze sculpture of a falcon made by a local artist. There was no way that Tony and Jackson would have one already, and art was always nice. Besides, he knew Tony would probably melt it down and turn it into a toilet wand the first chance he got.

They didn’t even want wedding presents. They had asked for donations to charity instead—all of which would be matched by the newlyweds.

Meanwhile, Steve felt the puncture as two hundred dollars left his bank account to pay for the sculpture.

The cashier looked at him a little too long and her red nails clacked against the countertop as she waited for the card reader to process his receipt.

Steve had to wonder now if people found him attractive or unnerving. He was never sure anymore.

Damp, chilly air greeted him as he walked out of the store with his sculpture. Spring was coming, though in Malibu it would be beautiful this time of year.  Winter didn’t like to leave Maine.

Steve told himself to look at it like a vacation. Malibu in springtime. He would be escaping the miserable weather in the north, staying in a nice hotel, and he’d get to see all of his friends in one place. That barely ever happened anymore.

When Steve returned home, he took the sculpture out of its safety wrapping and placed it on his dining table to look at it for a little while.  It wasn’t the best sculpture he had ever seen, but it was a modern-rustic type of thing. Unique. It would be a great gift, along with his charity donation.

Tony would probably actually like it. Jackson too.  They would be impressed.

Nikolai, Steve’s German Shepherd, sniffed the falcon and looked at him, wagging his tail. Charlie, one of his retrievers, cocked his head, watching the falcon as though it might come to life.

“You think it’ll make it through airport security?” Steve asked Nikolai with a chuckle.

Nikolai’s tongue lolled out and he wagged his tail a little harder.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well look who’s up early.”

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of someone entering the dining room, but more so because he recognized that voice as Tony Stark.

The Tower wasn’t a permanent residence for any of the Avengers, but when threat levels were high, they found it easier to move into Stark Tower—now Avengers Tower.

Right now though, it was just Steve. He hadn’t been able to find an apartment in New York, and SHIELD was even talking about moving him to D.C. soon. A change of scenery would be nice. It would allow him to get himself sorted out after his fiasco with his newly discovered bisexuality. The fiasco part being that he had mistakenly told Natasha and now everyone in the team knew.

The word “bisexual” still made him flinch—homosexuality was a bad enough word from his past, but being attracted to both sexes? Steve still wasn’t comfortable with it. Of course, it felt good to have an accepted identity of sorts, but in his gut he still felt like he was sinning. It was his old way of thinking, he knew, but that didn’t leave him easily.

It would take time.

Right now, he just had to make it through the next few minutes while Stark got his coffee or his breakfast or whatever.  So he focused on his newspaper and tried to think of a witty comeback.

“I’m always up early.”

Close enough.

The words on the newsprint in front of him went out of focus as Steve tried to see what Tony was doing out of the corner of his eye. His heartbeat was already elevated and his fingers were tingling.

This crush certainly wasn’t planned. Not to mention that Steve didn’t even want to be attracted to Tony Stark in the first place. Tony was a selfish, spoiled brat. He was rude and obnoxious and all he cared about was himself and his money.

But he had very nice eyes. And a nice smile. And his voice was…charming. Sometimes.

Was there too much silence going on? Steve swallowed, wondering if he should take another bite of oatmeal so Tony would know he was eating and that was why he wasn’t saying anything.

“Did you hear anything last night?” Tony asked in a groggy voice. “Like, any noises?”

“If you’re asking me whether or not I heard you and whoever you brought over last night, I didn’t. I’m two floors down.” Steve took a quick sip of orange juice.

“Uh, I was talking about your heater that you wanted fixed but, um, okay.”

Steve’s cheeks turned bright red. “Oh. Sorry.”

“And, for the record, I didn’t sleep with anyone last night.”

A strange kind of relief flooded his bloodstream and Steve sharply reprimanded himself. Tony could and should sleep with whoever he wanted. It was his choice what he did with his free time, not Steve’s.

He heard the clink of a coffee mug and the sound of Tony rubbing his face. He couldn’t help but wonder what Tony had been up to if he had spent a Friday night alone. He’d probably been in the lab. Or maybe he’d been waiting around to ask someone out. Sitting there in his penthouse, wishing Steve was there. And then maybe they would have ended up on the couch, watching the fireplace and talking about things. Tony would lean over and say how much he had wanted this to happen, and then, just like that, they would be kissi—

Steve blinked hard, scrubbing those thoughts from his mind. Jesus, he was going insane.

“Is everything okay?” Tony asked from behind him.

“Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Steve quickly shoved more oatmeal in his mouth.

Tony sat down next to him and Steve immediately leaned away.

“Like right there,” Tony said, scooting closer. “You’re being all shifty.”

“I’m not being shifty,” Steve muttered, scraping at his bowl.

“You haven’t talked to me this whole week. Usually I wouldn’t notice, but it’s just us. You’ve barely said a word to me. And you won’t look at me. _Everyone_ looks at me.”

Steve swallowed and looked over. Tony looked disheveled from a sleep, but as always, he was still incredibly handsome. Steve was tempted to reach over and ruffle his dark hair. Except, not really. He just…that’s what he would do if…If he were in a relationship with Tony, then maybe he would ruffle his hair right now.

Tony cocked a brow. “What?”

“What?” Steve looked away.

“You were staring at me.”

“Because you look like you just woke up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on you.” He cleared his throat. “Y’know, because you never—“

“Because I never sleep. I got it,” Tony finished with a little smirk.

Steve nodded once and looked back down at his bowl of oatmeal. That had been a really stupid thing to say. He _always_ ended up saying something stupid like that.  Tony probably thought he was an idiot, like everyone else that ran into him. He had come a long way from a few years ago. He knew about the world. He wasn’t actually stupid.

Except around Tony.

“Rumor has it, you’ve got a secret admirer, you know,” Tony said before sipping his coffee.

His blood chilled. Steve looked over at Tony again, this time only focused on his expression. “A…Someone likes me?”

He hadn’t meant for it to come out like that. That sounded so desperate.

Tony laughed, presumably at his stupidity. “You’re so adorable that sometimes I swear it’s an act.”

Steve’s cheeks turned pink—again.

“Of course someone likes you. He’s coming to my New Years party. And I think he’s hot, so you don’t have to worry about him not being attractive,” Tony said, smiling around the rim of his coffee mug.

Steve shook his head. “I don’t think so. Natasha has started trying to set me up with people and I don’t think any of you guys should be playing matchmaker.”

“Natasha doesn’t know anything about people unless she’s trying to manipulate them. I know people.” Tony turned up his nose a little before sipping some more coffee.

Steve laughed nervously and tried not to melt under the force of Tony’s smile. “Yeah, sure.”

“I do,” Tony argued, setting down his mug. “I know you, at least.”

Steve’s tensed as though someone was winding up two balls of muscle in either of his shoulders. His throat was dry. “You—No you don’t. You don’t know anything about me.”

The only thing they had in common was their solitary lifestyles. Tony liked to be alone in his lab wih his loud music and robots, while Steve didn’t have a choice was to sit by himself in a house or a tower or an apartment he didn’t own, maybe listening to NPR or to nothing at all.

“Do too.”

Tony was so childish. Even so, Steve was warm all over. God, he really didn’t like Tony at all. “You do not.”

“I so do. Like how you do that shrug thing when someone makes you happy.” Tony’s brow furrowed a little. “It’s like you aren’t expecting people to make you happy. Or something. What’s up with that?”

“I—“ He hadn’t been aware that he had a “shrug thing.” He probably didn’t. This was just Tony trying to get under his skin or trick him or something.

“No, really. Tell me. What’s up with that?” Tony cocked his head, those expressive brown eyes just begging for an answer.

“I don’t have a shrug thing.”

“Yeah you do.”

Tony touched his arm and Steve flinched automatically, drawing away. This wasn’t fair.

“And that right there! What the hell, Steve! Did something, I dunno, happen to you?”

Sometimes Steve wished it had, just so he would have an excuse. It was such a selfish thing, because he wanted Tony to feel sorry for him, protective of him. Steve was pretty sure if he were a weaker man that he would let himself break down sometime just to see what Tony would do to help. but he wasn’t weak. Never had been; not before the serum or since.

“No, nothing happened to me. You just…I wasn’t expecting that,” he finally muttered, scrapping at his oatmeal again. There were a few oats sticking on the sides that needed to be eaten.

Tony touched him again and this time Steve tensed, but didn’t recoil. The pressure of Tony’s fingers was warm, unnatural.

Nobody really ever touched him, Steve realized. He just wasn’t a touchy person.

“Are you done?” he asked after a moment, giving Tony a side-eyed glare.

Tony didn’t lift his hand right away. “This already sounds ridiculously stupid in my head so I’m sure it’ll sound even worse saying it out loud, but do want, like, a hug or something?”

“A what?”

Surely he hadn’t heard that right. Surely Tony hadn’t just asked him...

“Yep—see, just forget it.” Tony shook his head.

“No, what did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted a hug,” Tony said, and Steve was pretty sure the other man was blushing, but he didn’t dare look.

 _Only if it’s from you,_ Steve wanted to say. Oh god, was that pathetic. “No, I don’t want a hug,” was what he actually came out of his mouth, and rather harshly at that.

Tony stood up and grabbed his mug. “Yeah. Forget it. My caffeine just hasn’t kicked in yet. Sorry.”

_Don’t be sorry._

“Well, hopefully it kicks in soon.”

Why was he always so mean? Every time anyone was nice to him, Tony especially, he was wary of them. Like a frightened dog, he snapped at the hands that fed, clothed, and housed him.

Tony paused before he left the kitchen. Steve kept his eyes trained on his bowl.

“I’ll—uh, I’ll call off the New Years date thing,” Tony said dismissively.  “But anyway, you’re allowed to have more than one bowl of oatmeal Steve. God knows you don’t look that good by starving.”

Just like that, his cheeks were pink again. “Yeah, thanks.”

Tony shuffled away and a few moments later the elevator dinged, signaling his departure from the floor.

Steve let out a long breath and scrubbed his face in his hands. He hated talking with Tony just as much as he craved it. Tony was impossible. Yet that only seemed to make him more attractive.

 

* * *

 

Excitement was actually coursing through Steve’s veins as he tossed his luggage onto his hotel bed and took in the seaside view out his window. It was late, but the ocean was still glittering in the moonlight beyond, greeting him.

It had been so long since he had been in Malibu. The place annoyed him to a fair degree—people who lived there were rich like Tony, but didn’t have the generous personality that Tony did. They were mean just to be mean.  That was why they had only really ever visited Malibu on vacation trips.

It smelled the same.

He sat down on his springy mattress and realized he was here for Tony’s wedding. Alone.

He had considered bringing a date, just for some kind of rub-in-Tony’s-face kind of deal, but he couldn’t even fathom actually doing it. Peter would be in the wedding anyway, and would be disappointed in him if he showed up with a date.

Bucky hadn’t even been invited, nor had Sam. The only people Steve would have to hang out with were the other Avengers, and he wasn’t even sure if they were coming. Thor probably wasn’t—he had only come to the last wedding because both grooms were his friends.

Regardless, the wedding would be beautiful, Steve was sure. A quiet wedding on the beach, with none of the flair and dazzle of other celebrity weddings. The food would be excellent, the reception band superb, and none of it would be anything like when it had been Steve marrying Tony. Tony would probably make sure of that.  Even so, it would be a great time and a great day.

His excitement started to return a little.

His therapist encouraged him to be excited. She said that in the past few months he had really grown and changed. She believed Tony and Jackson’s wedding was actually helping him.

Even Bucky had made a comment about him smiling more. Bucky, who would sooner put a bullet through Tony’s skull then talk to him on the phone. When Bucky had heard about the wedding, he had pulled Steve into a hug and Steve had just stared at the wall, unable to feel anything at all. The invitation only upset him because it reminded him that life didn’t care what he was doing, it pushed on without him.

Nobody knew that the core of his happiness didn’t come from some notion of finally being able to move on—no, it was far more selfish. Steve considered this wedding a victory. He had won. He had been the one to prove everyone wrong who said he was a gold-digging super slut that was going to date someone else and take Tony’s money. He made his own money and had raised Peter without so much as a cent from Tony. Even that extra money from the museum had felt tainted in his wallet, but so long as Tony’s name wasn’t on the check, he could swallow it.

Nobody wrote anything about him anymore. Nobody ever said he had ignited an old flame or found someone else.

Tony had. Tony had moved on. His “love” had been weaker. Maybe Steve had been right all along, and Tony’s love had faded away. Only after divorce had Tony talked about loving him the whole time—and only when he was lonely.

Well, Steve had made it through loneliness without once crawling to Tony for help. The only times he had fallen apart that Tony knew about were when he just happened to be coming by.

Steve smiled as he stood up from the bed and began to unpack. He really was happy—tomorrow would be a great time with his friends and with Peter. And seeing Tony wouldn’t be bad either. And Jackson.

Tony and Jackson would love his present and he would probably be sitting with the Avengers or with Peter—though probably not Peter since he was best man, and only groomsman.  Jackson’s three sisters were the only bridesmaids, and they would probably be sitting at Tony and Jackson’s table for the reception.

That was fine.

They would eat good food, dance, have fun when everyone got drunk (except Tony, Steve, and Thor—and maybe Jackson) and then everyone would hang out again the day after to soak up the sun before Tony and Jackson headed off to wherever for their honeymoon.

It would be the first time in a long time that Steve would be genuinely happy around Tony without fear that something dramatic was going to happen.

Sixteen years and they were finally there.

 

* * *

 

Three plates of mac ‘n cheese sat cold on the dinner table, the fake cheddar crusted to the ceramic. One was still filled with noodles; the other two were scraped clean. Well, Peter’s was about as clean as a four year-old’s could get.

Down the hall, Steve was sitting on the edge of Peter’s racecar bed, gently running his fingers through Peter’s freshly washed hair. Peter himself was fast asleep, one chubby cheek mushed against his pillow in the cutest possible way.

“I don’t know how I’m gonna do this, Pete,” Steve whispered into the darkness. “But I don’t think Daddy and I can stay together. I just don’t want to hurt you, you know?”

Saying it out loud only made a lump form in his throat.

He never ever wanted to be this person.  Peter would probably hate him for the rest of his life for tearing them apart. And he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be getting custody anyway, so these nights might very well be the last he ever spent with his little boy.

“And...and Daddy’s gonna take you away from me, Petey. I don’t know if you’ll understand this, but I’m not really your Papa. You’re not really mine, Pete.”

Peter made a little noise in his sleep and Steve hushed him, gently scratching Peter’s back the way that always knocked him right out.

“So basically, I have no right to take you.” Steve’s eyes welled up with tears the way they had been doing for months, every time he tried to practice this speech. “Daddy’s lawyers are going to take you away from me and I’ll probably never see you again, except maybe sometimes. We’ll see each other sometimes.”

Trading one parent for another. That was all a divorce would do.  And Tony might turn right around and go back to being busy all the time, leaving Peter to take care of himself. To grow up alone, thinking his Papa didn’t want to ever see him.

“I know you’ll hate me for this,” Steve continued shakily. “But I…”

He looked down, too ashamed to even look at his son as he spoke.

“Daddy and I fight too much. You don’t understand that now, but when you’re older, you will. It keeps getting worse too, no matter what I try to do. And…you’ve never met Grandma and Grandpa, my mom and dad, but they fought all the time. Always. And back then nobody got a divorce. That’s what me and Daddy are gonna do—get a divorce.”

That foul, disgusting word. Divorce said that both separated parties were too selfish and too ignorant to face their own problems. It didn’t say that one husband had never been around or ever bothered to think his missing consecutive dinners and soccer games was wrong. It didn’t say that the very thought of trying to fix things was so unfathomable that Steve couldn’t even stand to focus on it for more than a fleeting second.

Marriage was always suppose to be fixable. Because love fixed everything. Love was some magic potion that made all other problems away.

That was the kind of bullshit that had gotten him into this mess.

Steve slid his hand underneath Peter’s, smiling a little at how warm it was. And how small. Peter’s fingers barely reached his knuckles.

“Now Daddy and I just fight, but so did Grandpa and Grandma when I was your age. They yelled sometimes, like Daddy and me. But then …” Peter was asleep, so it was just practice, but it still hurt his heart to speak at all.

“My dad hit my mom, Pete. And I saw it,” he whispered, as though his father might come storming in with slurs in his mouth and a bottle in one hand, a belt in the other.  “We didn’t have a big house like you and I do. My daddy drank a lot of that grown-up medicine, like Daddy does, and that made him extra mean.”

He remembered his mother telling him how makeup was very important because a woman had to look pretty. But he also remembered her using it to cover up her purpled eyes and the ugly bruises on her neck.

“And soon, my mommy and daddy were really fighting. Like Daddy and me with the monsters on TV. And that’s what’s going to happen if I stay, Petey. I know it will.” His voice cracked, and emotion gushed from the open wound.

If anything, it would start sooner than it had with his mother and father. He and Tony were physical people already, thanks to their jobs as Avengers. They already got in each other’s faces when things got nasty. They already grabbed and tried to hold each other in place when they yelled at each other.

One punch, and both of them would end up in the hospital. It was so feasible that Steve felt a shiver run down his spine. Already, they had come close to that. Things had been thrown, horrible insults spewed. It was only a matter of time before it all got worse.

“And after me and Daddy start really fighting, do you know what happens next?” His voice was quivering madly now, and hot tears rolled from his eyes, hot and scalding.  Oh, Peter. Not Peter.

“I don’t know how—I don’t know how—but then it happens to you. Daddy’s daddy did it to him. My dad did it to me. I don’t think he even knew what he was doing. That’s ‘cause it’s evil, Peter. It’s evilness and it’s going to happen here if I don’t stop this right now.”

He just hoped it was early enough. That their divorce wouldn’t cause Tony to snap and follow in Howard’s footsteps. Now there were statistics about abuse, and Steve knew that children who were abused were likely to abuse their children. Two fathers with a history and two fathers with alcoholism in the family? Peter was doomed.

“But if Daddy ever, ever hurts you, Uncle Jarvis is going to call me. Do you hear me, Peter? Uncle Jarvis will call me and I will not let him hurt you ever, ever.”

He would kill Tony Stark if he heard even a rumor Peter being harmed by him. He wouldn’t even hesitate. Not for a second. He had no forgiveness for parents who hurt their children.

Steve knew he was making the right choice. Ending this marriage before Peter had to experience the noises of a parent entering the house becoming the meat of his nightmares. The sounds of his father stirring terror within him the way that it had for Steve. And for Tony.

“But Papa’s stopping all of that. You’re going to grow up smart and nice and happy with Daddy.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to Peter’s temple. A little sob escaped him unbidden, and for a moment he had to just sit still, his nose in Peter’s soft hair.

“I’m doing what’s right,” he croaked. “To keep you safe, Pe—“

Peter groaned, pushing at his face with his little hands.

“Sor—Sorry,” Steve whispered, quickly pulling away.

Peter turned his head into his pillow a little, but not before kicking Steve’s thigh.

Steve gave a weak smile. “Okay, Papa’s done. No more sad talking.”

He didn’t want to risk waking Peter, so he didn’t touch or kiss him another time, though he wanted to.

Steve wiped his eyes after shutting the door to Peter’s room and froze when he heard the sound of a spoon clinking against a plate in the kitchen. Tony was home.

Steve stayed in the hallway for a few more minutes, blotting his eyes with his shirt and taking deep breaths. He kept his arms crossed, hoping that maybe Tony would just think he had been outside in the cold to explain his red eyes and nose.

Then Steve shuffled into the kitchen to where Tony was scarfing down his mac ‘n cheese.

“Want me to heat it up for you, at least?” Steve asked quietly, leaning against the doorframe.

“Hey, babe,” Tony said around a mouthful of cheesy noodles. He shook his head. “Nah, I like ‘em cold.”

“Is that why you’re three hours late for dinner?” Steve asked.

“Fuck, Steve, not tonight,” Tony groaned. He got out of his chair as he swallowed some of his meal and turned to face him with cheesy lips.

Steve found himself repulsed by his husband in that moment.

Tony’s puffy-cheeked smile fell almost immediately and his brows pinned. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Steve lied.

“Yes, it is.” Tony crossed over to him, grabbing a napkin from the table and wiping his lips along the way. “What’s up, Spangles?”

“I said nothing, Tony,” Steve repeated curtly.

“Hey.” Tony’s hands came up to rub Steve’s arms soothingly. “I’m sorry for missing dinner, okay? We had some stuff to go over about the meeting in Tokyo. I had to be there.”

Steve might have punched him if there had been whiskey on Tony’s breath, but there wasn’t. “You said you were coming.”

“I know.” Tony abandoned rubbing his arms and brought his hands to cup Steve’s face instead, thumbing at his cheekbones. “I’m sorry. I’m here now.”

“Peter wanted to see you, but he’s sleeping now,” Steve said, nostrils flaring. He was not about to start crying. “He really wanted to see you.”

“And he will. I’ll go in late tomorrow.”

He wouldn’t, Steve knew. He would find some excuse and leave early.

“I love you,” Tony said, flashing a charming smile. “I love you a lot.”

Oh, Tony was a talented flirt. So convincing.

Steve sighed. “I love you too.”

He wasn’t sure if he was lying.

Tony kissed him then and Steve let himself relax even more as it deepened. Tony hadn’t been home in almost a week.

“Let’s go to bed,” Tony whispered, feathering Steve’s jawline with kisses. “I missed you so much.”

Steve shouldered Tony away. The last thing he wanted right now was sex. “I missed you too, but I don’t want to have sex tonight. I want to catch up with you.”

Tony frowned. “Babe,” he whined. “I want to catch up too, but I want to spend some quality time with you. The kind we can only have when the little guy’s asleep.”

Steve fought the urge to scoff. How dare Tony come in and act like Peter was some kind of nuisance. He had probably waited to come home just so he didn’t have to interact with Peter and they could just fuck.

“Well, I don’t want to,” Steve said, trying to keep the anger from his voice.

“Okay, okay. My bad.” Tony rested his forehead against the dip in Steve’s collarbone, taking a breath. “But can we at least make out on the couch for a bit? Please?”

Steve kissed the crown of Tony’s head. “Sure. I missed you.”

He had been missing Tony for months. Even right now, he missed him.

“Mm.” Tony nuzzled into his chest a little more. “I missed _you_. Come on.”

Tony led him toward the living room and Steve felt hollow. His footsteps resounded in his ears with each step.

No. He wasn’t going to do this.

He stopped and pulled Tony to him, meeting his lips with a hunger before they were even by the couch.

Tony was a great kisser, and even better in bed. Steve didn’t deserve the punishment of not sleeping with him one last time.

“I changed my mind,” Steve panted between kisses.

Tony’s hands were under his shirt in seconds. “I love you, _fuck_.”

But even as Steve tangled his fingers in Tony’s hair and they bounced from wall to wall in the hallway toward their bedroom, shedding their clothes, Steve found himself not really paying attention.

While they fucked—Tony thought it was making love, but it wasn’t—Steve felt like his real self was sitting across the room, looking past them at the moonlit city out the window. His body was reacting to the touch, the rhythm, the warm skin, but his mind wasn’t there at all.

Two weeks until Tokyo. Two weeks until he could finally throw away the gold band on his finger that had destroyed his life.

 

* * *

 

 

There was a line to get into the wedding venue. Steve stood there with a goofy smile, clutching tight to his falcon sculpture. It was meticulously wrapped, complete with a bow and an attached letter of encouragement, as well as his receipt from his donation to Wounded Warriors.  His suit fit perfectly, just like it had when they attended that celebrity wedding that Tony dragged him to twenty years ago “because it would be fun.”

He waved to Natasha, who was wearing a beautiful dark purple dress and Clint Barton as an accessory. She waved back and elbowed Clint until he turned around, and then Clint was waving too. They said something to each other and smiled, similar to when they were exchanging information on mission, pretending to be a wedded couple.

Bruce was behind him a little ways,  standing off to the side and far from the high-powered friends of Jackson’s that were staring at him. Steve smiled when Bruce saw him.

Bruce smiled back looking a little shocked, then turned away again.

If Thor were coming, he would have been here already. And probably halfway through the alcohol supply too.

Rhodey and Pepper were checking people in before they were being sent past the picket fence and off to the beach where Jackson and Tony were greeting everyone. Steve couldn’t really see any of that, but news travelled fast down the line.

He was actually excited for this. It was the first time he was able to be present for a friend’s wedding.  He readjusted his hold on his falcon sculpture and found himself smiling. The sun was warm on his shoulders and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

Probably Thor’s wedding present.

Steve laughed to himself upon thinking that, and moved up a little more as the line moved.

A little while later, Steve was near the front and could hear Jackson greeting the guests. His voice carried more than Tony’s.

“Hey, Dayvon! So glad you made it. Was the flight okay? Good, good.”

Steve stepped up to Rhodey, who was furiously scribbling into the guest book to get everyone’s names.

“Name?”

Steve grinned. “Steve Rogers.”

Rhodey froze and looked up at him.  There was silence as they stared at each other, and it went too long for the silence to be shock.

Steve’s smile fell.

“Steve,” Rhodey said kind of loudly. He looked over to where Pepper was showing a family past the entrance. A pained smile came to his face. “Invitation?”

Steve blinked, then remembered he’d put it in his pocket to find the address. “Oh, uh, yeah.” He propped the falcon on his knee and fished out his creased invitation, handing it over. “There you are.”

“Great to see you, buddy,” Rhodey said with about the fakest smile Steve had ever seen. “Go right on in.”

Steve hesitated, but then stepped underneath the beach-themed archway.

Pepper slid in front of him before Steve could even catch sight of Tony and Jackson.

“Steve, hi,” she greeted. Her smile at least looked genuine to people who didn’t know better.

“Hi, Pepper,” Steve replied. This was the ex-husband awkwardness he had been trying to prepare for. “How’s it going?”

“Just getting people checked in. Um, your seat is in the back here. Let me show you.” She nodded toward the chairs in the sand.

“What, I don’t get to greet the happy couple?” he asked jokingly. She knew full well it wasn’t a joke.

Pepper gave him a weak smile. “Sorry, Steve. We’re just running out of time. Everything has to move right on time today.”

She was lying to him.

He sighed. “I get it. Okay, where am I sitting? Shouldn’t I put my gift somewhere first?”

Pepper didn’t say anything until they were at the final chair in the furthest corner of the seats. Back row. The place where someone sat to be forgotten about. Steve tried to smile.

“You weren’t supposed to bring a gift,” Pepper said, her voice a little tight. “You were supposed to do—“

“Donate, I know. I did that too. I also know that nobody doesn’t bring a gift to a wedding,” Steve said. “Is something wrong, Pepper?”

Her polite smile returned. “Of course not, Steve. We’re just busy. Not as busy as your wedding, but still very busy. I’ll take your gift.”

The first comparison to his wedding. 

Steve handed over the falcon and opened his mouth to say something else, but Pepper was gone.

Headed in the opposite direction of the gift table.

Steve sighed and decided to take his seat, though only elderly people were sitting down. He supposed that was fitting.

He couldn’t catch sight of Tony or Peter, so Steve resigned himself to reading news articles on his phone. Nobody wanted to talk to him here, and evidently he wasn’t allowed to talk to Tony or Jackson yet.

It wasn’t long before people were gathering by the chairs and the whispering started. Steve had a habit for eavesdropping—it came along with his superb hearing.

“—can’t believe his ex-husband is even—“

“Captain America just has to try to steal the show—“

“—‘s son isn’t even related to him.”

“—uck that, I wouldn’t let him anywhere near my child.”

“—heard Steve Rogers, the ex, is _here_.”

Steve kept his gaze on his phone. He wanted to get up and yell at these people, but this was Tony’s day. He wasn’t going to make a scene and ruin it. This was Tony and Jackson’s wedding! It was supposed to be about them!

But he froze when he heard Tony’ voice, angry and sharp.

“Well where is he, Pepper?”

“Tony, please just—“

Jackson’s voice.

“No, I’m talking to him. Where is he?”

Steve stood up and turned toward where Tony, Jackson, and Pepper were standing. Tony was dressed in a sharp tux with a red tie, and matching red sunglasses. Jackson had a similar getup, but in light blue.

Something wasn’t right.

“Tony. Here.” Steve put on a smile as he crossed to them, aware that everyone was watching. “What’s going on?”

Tony rounded on him, angrily yanking off his sunglasses and folding them on his chest. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Steve blinked, his brow furrowing. “What—“

“You weren’t fucking invited, Steve. I didn’t want you to come here and ruin everything like you always fucking do.”

Steve put his hands up, taking a step back. “Whoa, Tony, I think something must have gone wrong. I got an invitation. I’m not crashing your wedding.”

“I sent it to him,” Jackson said, sliding between Steve and Tony. “I didn’t think it was right not to—“

“Jackson, I fucking told you—“

“I know,” Jackson said quietly. “But I honestly didn’t think he would come. And he’s here to support us. That’s not bad, babe, it’s not bad.”

Tony just stared at Jackson for a few moments before peering behind him at Steve, who was frozen.

Steve, who was quickly realizing that he shouldn’t be here. That this wedding wasn’t something he was supposed to attend. “Oh my god, Tony, I…”

“Just shut up, Steve,” Tony snapped.

People were staring.

Steve shut up.

Humiliation began curling beneath his skin, white hot and burning. It left a bad taste in his mouth and something in his nose that gave the same sensation as smelling burning rubber.

Jackson was speaking quietly to Tony, and Tony was nodding and saying something back, but Steve couldn’t make anything out until Tony looked up at him, his eyes still a little wild.

“Fine, you can stay. But you’re not sitting with me or Peter, or the Avengers. You are not ruining my wedding, Steve. And if you open your fucking mouth once during this ceremony—“

Steve shook his head. “I’m leaving, Tony. I didn’t realize I wasn’t welcome.”

“Steve, you’re welcome here,” Jackson said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

Steve smiled weakly. Jackson was way too nice. “Thanks, Jackson. But this is your day. I didn’t mean to cause any kind of trouble, I just wanted to be here to congratulate you both.”

“And we appreciate it and want you to stay,” Jackson said. After a moment, he elbowed his fiancé.

Tony let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I…Sorry, Steve,” he said, as though he were reading off a card.  I just thought…I don’t know what I thought. I’m sorry. It’s fine if you’re here, you just caught me off guard.”

“Okay,” Steve said stupidly. What else could he say? Leaving would only make him seem like a drama queen. Staying meant living with the fact that he had done something bad to Tony’s wedding day.

So he slunk back to his seat without another word and sat. Tony said something to Pepper that he couldn’t hear, and then people were taking their seats.

The ceremony wasn’t longwinded. Tony knew everyone was here to party, and it wasn’t like this was his first wedding anyway.

Steve wasn’t even sure if it was Jackson’s first wedding. He hadn’t thought to ask.

He perked up when Pete came into view up front, smiling and offering a wave that he knew Peter couldn’t see. Peter waved at someone else with a wide smile and Steve realized that it was probably Mary Jane. She had come all the way out to Malibu to support Peter and his father. That was nice of her. Steve liked MJ.

The intro music was played by a pianist sitting to the right of the crowd at a black grand piano that must have been brought in from someplace fancy. It was untouched by the fine beach sand, perched on a platform to keep it safe. Not that Tony would care if something happened to it. Paying for a piano would be nothing. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if Tony had bought the thing just for the ceremony.

He briefly wondered if this was what it felt like at his wedding. They had gone a lot bigger, and rented out a luxurious ballroom in New York. Practically everyone they had ever met came to their wedding. Well, everyone they had met since Steve had thawed out.

The best day of his life, Steve had called it once. Marrying the man he loved.

Now he watched as Tony and Jackson walked up the aisle arm-in-arm, abandoning the practice of one waiting at the altar. Pictures were taken all over and phones sprang up from the crowd like weeds, capturing it all.

Happy stood at the end of the aisle red-faced and sweaty, suffocating in his tux. His hair was dyed now—it didn’t have quite the same color anymore. Happy was getting older, jowlier, aged. No longer a bodyguard, that was for sure, though he still worked for the security team at Stark Industries. At least, last time Steve had heard.

Pepper placed a foldout chair beside him and sat once Happy started greeting everyone.

She didn’t even say anything to him.

He shifted uncomfortably in the hot sun, wishing he had brought his aviators. They were in his hotel room, sitting on his dresser probably.

The ceremony started, and Steve quickly tuned out. Not having sunglasses made it hard to look up at the dazzling ocean and sand anyway. Or maybe he was just using that as an excuse not to have to watch his ex husband and his fiancé stare at each other like lovers did.

Steve hoped that Jackson wasn’t upset by him being here. Jackson had sent him an invitation, but hadn’t anticipated him actually coming. He didn’t know if that was worse. It felt worse.

“…say so now or forever hold your peace,” Happy said.

Steve snapped to attention, thinking perhaps he had been called out. All of a sudden, people were staring at him. Tony was staring at him. Jackson was uncomfortably looking away.

“If you say anything, Steve, I swear to God I will hit you with my purse,” Pepper whispered.

So that was why she sat next to him. Because everyone thought he was here to ruin Tony’s wedding. To stand up and make some stupid claim that he still loved Tony, like a goddamn romance movie.

Like Steve hadn’t been through hundreds of nights alone without a husband, thinking it was something wrong about him that caused Tony to never want to be around.

Like he hadn’t practically raised their son as a single parent until he handed over those papers.

Like he was a weak loser who relied on people to feel sorry for him to feel better about himself.

Like he was a man who would get remarried after sixteen years.

Cheering erupted before Steve could even process that Happy had started speaking again, and when he looked up, Tony had his arms around Jackson, kissing him wholeheartedly.

“I can’t believe you,” he hissed to Pepper.

“Steve, I’m sorry. Tony was just so worried that you would say something—“

“What? That I would say I want to be with him again?” Steve snapped as quietly as he could. “This is ridiculous.”

Pepper frowned.

All of a sudden, Steve realized that none of these people were his friend anymore.

Pepper, who had been a bridesmaid (though he realized now that bridesmaid probably wasn’t the right word) at his wedding was now looking at him the same way she looked at one of Tony’s fans. He didn’t even know what she was doing with her life anymore.

None of the Avengers had even offered to have him sit with them.

All he had were his dogs, Bucky, and Sam. Even Peter wasn’t really his friend anymore. Peter had missed Christmas to be with his girlfriend and hadn’t even remembered to tell him.

Steve was going to outlive all of these people, yet he had been the first one to be forgotten.

And now here he was, just a juicy piece of gossip attending his ex-husband’s wedding.

Well, past tense. _Attended_ his ex-husband’s wedding. The ceremony was over.

Steve kept his eyes to the ground as Tony and Jackson walked by, making their way to the flowery archway while everyone clapped and cheered. Faceless people in forgettable dresses and suits.

“I’m not going up there,” Steve told Pepper quietly as the first row of people left their seats to congratulate the couple a few moments later.

Instead of trying to persuade him otherwise, or even pretending to, Pepper let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

Hurt knotted in his gut.

He had come here with good intentions. He had come here to willingly watch the man he still loved marry somebody else. He had even come here happy about it—excited, even. This was supposed to be a day where he could see how his life had turned out and be pleased about it.

But everyone just assumed he was here to cause a scene. To hurt Tony.

Fine. Fucking fine.

He pushed past Pepper and got in line, cutting in front of most of the people waiting. Murmurs rippled through the crowd that weren’t friendly, but Steve hardly cared.

“Tony,” he said, plastering a smile on his face. “Jackson.”

Tony looked downright wary and Jackson was clearly regretting his decision to send that invitation. They were both flushed and happy-eyed, but all of that was fading away pretty quickly now that Steve, The Problem, was standing there in front of them.

“I just wanted to say congratulations before I head out,” Steve said, reaching out for a handshake.

Jackson took his hand and gave a few firm pumps, but his brow was furrowed. “Steve, aren’t you staying? The reception is just a little ways down the beach. We’ll all be going over there in a few minutes.”

The look on Tony’s face showed what everyone else was probably thinking: get lost.

Steve shook his head. “Oh no, I have to go back to New York, actually. Avengers stuff, you know.”

Jackson probably knew that absolutely nothing was going on for the Avengers right now, but he was too nice of a guy to say anything. And he probably wanted Steve gone even more than everyone else.

None of this was fair to poor Jackson. He was so nice, and so welcoming. Yet he was going to live the rest of his life with Tony Stark, who had offered to end it all for a chance with his ex-husband.

Jackson didn’t deserve this.

“Steve, just stay for a drink,” Tony said in a false-casual voice. “You’re freaking out about the invitation thing. Don’t. We’re all good.”

They weren’t good.

Steve swallowed. “No, I really think I should get going. I just wanted to congratulate you guys and wish you all the happiness in the world.” He gave Jackson a genuine smile. “If you ever need anything, I’m just a phone call away.” And a few states.

“You haven’t even said hi to Peter,” Tony said, and Steve didn’t understand why the hell he was pushing this. He could say hi to Peter anytime this weekend, and if Tony wanted him out, he sure wasn’t acting like it.

“Well, duty calls, Tony,” Steve said, forcing his smile a little too much.

Jackson shook his head. “Steve, please.  I feel horrible about the mix-up with the invitation. That was so rude of me. Let me make it up—“

Steve put up a hand, a bit of a blunt action. “Jackson, please. We both know the mix-up was on my end for coming. _I’m_ sorry.”

Tony shot him a glare as a guilty expression came to Jackson’s face. “Oh, Steve,” Jackson said, shaking his head, “that’s not—“

“Apples,” Tony said, turning to look at his new husband. “Stop. It’s our day, yeah? Let Steve go if he wants to go. It’s not your fault he still hasn’t learned how to take a hint.”

Tears pricked at Steve’s eyes so quickly that he was pretty sure they had been there all along.

“I’m—Congratu—Bye, guys.” He turned and strode off as fast as he thought would be acceptable. It wasn’t fast enough though, and he cursed himself for not bringing sunglasses as his vision blurred with tears.

Here he was, ruining Tony’s wedding day when all he had meant to do was show support for what was left of his family.

His therapist had said it was a great idea. His therapist had encouraged him to come here. Bucky hadn’t even fought him for very long. Sam said he could get off work to hang out with him if he wanted someone at the wedding with him.

But he just couldn’t take a hint.

 

* * *

 

 

Divorce was an ugly, slimy thing. Steve had known that going in, but no one had ever said that the same slime that kept him up all night before court hearings about custody and denying Tony’s alimony crusted into a paste that was impossible to remove. Just like superglue smoothed over fingertips for criminals looking to avoid leaving prints, nothing ever seemed to grab hold to him anymore. No new friends, no new numbers in his cell phone.

Just the burning of his raw skin as he was flayed and exposed to the world’s harsh spotlight.

People had spat on him in public. People who didn’t even know him. A woman yelled at him for five minutes on the subway for being a horrible role model for her children. Old people shook their heads at him as though it was still 1942 and getting a divorce was the equivalent of marrying Satan himself.

His heart was withered and dry in his chest and he could feel it with every breath. Everything hurt. Everything just _hurt_.

He found himself shaking sometimes. For no reason at all—just shaking.

Peter still asked why Daddy’s things weren’t at his apartment.

Steve knew better than to try to explain to people his reasoning, so he just didn’t really talk to anyone anymore. His day consisted of training and eating. Every minute outside of that was spent waiting for when he could sleep. Except when Peter came over, of course. But Peter still wasn’t used to the apartment yet.

So when a man sat down across from him at a build-your-own salad shop in Brooklyn, Steve prepared himself for yet another verbal lashing.

He was just so tired.

“Sorry, I know this is totally outta line, but can I sit with you? I mean, I guess I’m already sitting, but is it okay if I sit here?”

Steve looked up from his dried cranberry, iceberg lettuce salad to get a look at his new acquaintance.

He was very handsome, with a square jaw, dark hair, and just the right amount of stubble. His eyes were hazel, a green and gold mix. He smelled like expensive cologne, and the suit he was wearing was definitely tailored.

“Sure,” Steve said, looking right back down at his plate.

“Thanks,” the guy said with a genuine smile. “I’m Ben, by the way.”

“Steve,” he muttered.

“Sorry?”

“Steve,” he said, a little louder.

“Gotta say, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone my age with the name Steve.”

Steve looked up again, this time scanning for any signs that this guy was duping him. But Ben’s body language was honest—a little tense, a little excited. Not a guy who seemed to have any clue who he was talking to.

“My parents were a little old-fashioned,” Steve said after a moment.

A smile almost came to his lips.

Ben laughed. “Yeah? That’s cool. I’m a little old-fashioned too. Just not in a hipster way.” His face turned serious. “I’m not a hipster. I swear.”

Something that might have been a chuckle escaped Steve’s lips. “Don’t worry, I don’t think you’re a hipster.”

Ben smiled, and for whatever reason, Steve found himself smiling back. He hadn’t smiled in a really long time.

“So, Steve, are you a health nut or something?” Ben poked his fork at Steve’s salad. “No dressing?”

Steve shook his head. “I never eat salad with dressing. Makes the leaves too soggy.”

Ben nodded thoughtfully. “I guess I can see that being an issue.” He cocked his head with a little smirk. “Don’t judge me. I drown my salad in ranch.”

Just like that, they were talking.

Ben was a world-class horse pedigree analyst. It didn’t sound like a job that would get him such a nice suit and cologne, but Steve was quickly made aware that he just didn’t know jack squat about horseflesh. Racehorses, show jumpers, polo ponies—all of the successful sport horses in the world relied on carefully planned breedings and genetics. And Ben loved his job. He also liked writing letters and teaching fiction writing courses for kids in low-income households.

By the time Steve had finished his salad, he was nearly giddy. Ben liked him, he could see it. The place was crowded, but there were still a few open tables that Ben could have squeezed into. Any number of chairs full of any number of people, yet Ben chose him. He was nice, charming, and funny as hell. And he liked art. Genuine in a way Tony wasn’t.

“I just sketch, mostly. I don’t paint or anything.”

Steve smiled wide. “Really? That’s great. I love painting, sketching—all of it. I just don’t really make time for it in my schedule, though I know I should.”

He was going to do it. He was going to ask this guy out.

One date. A date wouldn’t get him fried. Tony had already been caught with a supermodel just a few weeks ago. Ben didn’t even know who he was.

“I actually go to this painting class in Manhattan on Wednesdays in this great little studio,” Steve continued, unable to stop smiling.

Maybe this was just absolute desperation kicking in.

“No way.” Ben’s eyes lit up. “I’ve always wanted to join an art class.”

“You should come! It’s not just painting, we actually haven’t really painted anything yet. We sketch, mostly.”

Ben frowned at his watch and glanced at his empty salad container. “Maybe some other time. I’ve really gotta run.” Ben stood. “This was great, Steve. Thanks for letting me sit with you.”

Steve stayed in his seat, not wanting to look like he didn’t want Ben to leave. “Of course. Hey, how about I give you my number? I’ll text you the name of the painting class place.” He smiled, smirking a little. “No pressure to go, if you don’t want to.”

The look that crossed Ben’s face was almost a grimace, but too polite to be considered one. “Ah, sorry, I don’t have my phone on me. I’ll look it up, though.”

Steve didn’t know how he was supposed to look it up without knowing the name, but Ben was a smart guy. “Here, let me just write down my number. Just in case you can’t find the place.”

He fished his nubby pencil from his sweatshirt pocket (he always kept one there just in case he needed to sketch) and scribbled his number down on a clean napkin. He handed the napkin to Ben, who grinned.

“Thanks. See you later, Steve.”

Ben left, and for the next minute or so Steve just smiled to himself. He could start something with Ben. They could at least go on a date to try things out. That was better than what Steve had been doing for the past few months.

Ben would love his apartment, and Steve just knew he would love Peter.

This would work out. Coming to the salad place hadn’t been in his original plan for the day.

It was fate, it had to be.

He put his pencil back in his pocket and recycled his salad container, still grinning to himself as he stepped from the shop back out into the bustling atmosphere of the city. Ben was totally going to text him. Or call him. Ben was going to call and ask if—

Ben was standing on the opposite side of the street, hailing a cab with one hand and holding his phone with the other.

The world around Steve froze. Not quickly, but in a creeping fashion, like frost curling on a windowpane, leaving Ben in a snowy vignette as he move in slow motion. Talking on the phone he’d said he didn’t have. Everyone always had their phone on them now.

Steve should have known.

He realized then how desperate he had been, how utterly stupid he had looked scribbling on that napkin while Ben had been trying to get the hell away from him.  That grimace should have been a warning to fucking drop it.

Steve sniffed once, then made a little wheezing noise in the back of his throat as his mood took a nosedive straight into the dirt.  He was used goods now, a hollowed out man with too much baggage for someone going places with his life like Ben. If only he would have kept his mouth shut, or kept his damn pencil in his pocket.

But he just couldn’t take a hint.

 

* * *

 

 

Finally, Peter picked up his phone.

Steve had been pacing the lobby of his hotel for the past hour, and had been trying to get ahold of his son for the past thirty minutes. Going back to his room would end very badly, he knew. Besides, Malibu was too sunny and beautiful to be cooped up in a tiny room anyway. The grand expanse of the lobby was much better.

“Pops, what’s up? I’m at Dad’s wedding, remember?” Peter’s voice was muffled with background noise. Music, talking, more music.

Steve bit his lip for a moment. “Yeah, I know, Pete. I was at the ceremony.”

“You were?” Peter sounded shocked. “I didn’t even see you there. Why aren’t you here then?”

“I…you know. I just didn’t think it would be right for me to be at the reception,” Steve said with a forced chuckle. “But I saw you and MJ. She looked beautiful, and you were very handsome.”

“You flew to Malibu just for the ceremony?” Peter asked, unconvinced.

“Of course. I wasn’t going to miss something this important for your dad.” His voice was shaking a little, humiliation still burning in his palms from Tony’s insult.

“Did Dad talk to you? Did he know you were here?”

“That’d be pretty rude for me not to say hi to the people getting married. But, Pete, I wanted to ask to see if—“

“Did he get upset?” Peter almost asked the question as a demand.

Steve’s brow furrowed a little. “He was surprised to see me at first, but—“

“So, yes.”

“Everything happened very quickly, Peter. He got upset because there was something wrong with my invitation, but he was totally fi—“

The background noise on Peter’s end of the line died out, presumably as Peter walked to a quieter part of the reception. “Do you always have to hurt him like that, Pops? Really?”

Steve blinked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You always do this to him. Every time he sees you, he ends up miserable. It took Jackson a week to get him back to normal after we visited last summer,” Peter hissed. “He’s just trying to move on and you act like he’s turned his back on us.”

“Peter,” Steve said sternly. “I would never come to your father’s wedding to hurt him in any way. Don’t you dare accuse me of that.”

“So you just flew here and showed up to the ceremony but bailed on the reception because you want to make him happy. Bullshit.”

Even his own son thought he was here to sabotage the wedding. His own son.

“I wanted to see what you were doing after the reception,” Steve said, his voice weak. “I wanted to get dinner with you and catch up. I haven’t seen you in seven months, Pete.”

“Can’t,” Peter said tartly, using the same voice he had when he was thirteen and didn’t want to go to the dentist. “We’re going to dinner and then having family movie night at the house.”

Steve thought he had misheard. “I didn’t hear you, what?”

“I said, Tony, Jackson, MJ, and I are going to dinner, then having family movie night at the house. I can’t go to dinner.”

Family movie night.

Steve had never felt more alone on the planet than when he heard Peter say “family” without referring to him.

“Oh,” Steve said quietly.

“I didn’t exactly plan for you to be here, Pops.” Peter sighed, and Steve could just see him running a hand through his hair.

“What about breakfast tomorrow?” he tried.

“I wanna sleep in tomorrow. I don’t want to have to set any alarms.”

Steve kept his eyes closed so tears wouldn’t leak out. “Of course. Right. Then how about lunch? Even if you wake up at the crack of noon, I don’t fly out until five.”

He should have waited to make his flight plans. He didn’t have the money to cancel.

“I know we haven’t seen each other, Pops, and I’m sorry about that, but this was just supposed to be my weekend with Dad and Jackson, y’know?” Yet Peter didn’t sound very apologetic. “Maybe Dad told you this, but they aren’t going on a honeymoon. We’re going on vacation, ‘cause it’s my spring break. MJ’s coming too.”

“Mary Jane is going on vacation with you? Does your dad know about that?” Steve asked, because being the stern parent was the only fuse within him that was functioning right now.

“Duh. He invited her!” Peter laughed.  “Come on, Pops. She practically lives in my apartment anyway. It’s not like we haven’t had sex.” A pause. “Pops?” Another pause. “I’ll text you or something tomorrow, but I don’t think I can do lunch.”

Before he even realized it, Steve had hung up his phone. The color drained from his face and he staggered to the closest empty chair before putting his head in his hands.

Peter wasn’t a virgin anymore. His son was already having sex with his girlfriend.

Maybe that wouldn’t have been so bad as the fact that Peter had acted like that was common knowledge. Like he had already told him when it had happened, as he had probably told Tony.

His own son didn’t even consider him family anymore. His own son didn’t even tell him about the important things in his life that apparently everyone else knew. His own son didn’t even want to see him after seven months apart.

He held himself together though, like he had learned to do in the war. Emotional though he was, Steve had still been trained like any other soldier, and then like any other officer. If things got bad, he was the one who sucked it up and led his team.

He made it to his room okay.

He sat on the mattress okay.

He punched in Bucky’s number okay.

He held the phone to his ear okay.

He breathed okay.

“Hey,” Bucky answered, his voice rough and sleepy.

He couldn’t speak okay.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice was sharper now.  “Stevie, you talk to me. Talk. What’s goin’ on? You in trouble?”

“Bucky, I don’t…” He choked on his words, fighting himself not to say them.

What good would it do? What good would it do to talk to anyone? They couldn’t do anything. All it did was made other people upset. And it made him look weak and broken and so fucking selfish. He knew better. His mother raised him better. His father beat him better.

“Sorry,” he said with a cough. “This wine is terrible. I forgot how rich people only drink dry wine.” He coughed again, staring at the shadows on the floor.

“Are you okay, Steve?” Bucky asked. “Want me to fly out there?”

He laughed, a broken sound. “No, no. I just wanted to tell you that I made it through the wedding okay. It was really nice. The reception was ridiculous, just like I said it would be.” Bucky hadn’t mastered phone calls. This conversation would never happen in real life—Bucky would see straight through it. But the phone masked things. Steve picked at his thumb. “Some drunk guy started stripping on a tent pole. It’s not even six o’clock.”

Bucky didn’t say anything for a minute. Then: “That dude must’a been shitfaced.”

Steve forced another laugh. “Oh yeah. For sure.” He licked his lips. Lying to Bucky was probably on his list of things he hated to do most. But it was necessary. “But I just wanted to let you know I was okay.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Bucky said, though they both knew he was lying.

Steve took a breath. “Yup. So, I just wanted to let you know. I’m about to head out to meet Peter for dinner, so I gotta go. Take good care of my dogs, yeah?”

Bucky let out a snort. “Yeah, yeah. Tell Pete I say hi.”

“I will. See ya, Buck.”

“See ya.”

He tossed his phone onto the mattress.

Immediately, his phone buzzed to life. Peter was calling.

Steve considered not answering, letting it stew in Peter’s mind what might be happening in his dinky hotel room, but then he remembered that Peter was his son, that ruining Tony’s day would only further ruin his own life, that nobody cared what happened to him as long as he didn’t go off and die.

Just as before, so long as he breathed and walked around pretending that things were going to get better, nobody would care.

“Hey, Pete.”

“Did you hang up on me?” Peter demanded. “Jeeze, Pops, I didn’t know sex scared you that much.”

Steve breathed. He pretended.

“Sorry, Bucky was calling. God knows he would have jumped on a plane and headed out here if I didn’t pick up,” Steve said.

“Yeah, true.” Peter laughed. “I just got worried there for a sec, I thought you hung up.”

Steve put on a cracked smile that he knew Peter couldn’t even see. “Like I’d ever hang up on my little Petey.”

He felt like he was talking to someone else’s child, or some young friend of his.

“Pops, c’mon,” Peter groaned, but Steve could hear the smile on his lips. “Okay, well I just wanted to make sure.”

He remembered sitting in the dark with his little boy, practicing the speech he never actually gave.

“Peter, we see each other sometimes, right? Would you say we see each other sometimes?” he asked quietly, picking at his thumb again, his eyes glazed.

“Uh, sure? Why?”

“Just wondering.” Steve nodded to himself a few times as the pause in their conversation lengthened. “I want you to know that I’m proud of you. You’re so smart and nice and you’re happy, right? You’re happy?”

“Yeah, Pops, I’m happy,” Peter said, but Steve could tell he was unsure.

Peter was happy without him. Peter had grown up smart and nice and happy with his father, and he and Peter still got to see each other sometimes.  

Somehow, Tony had done the impossible and raised their child to be a good kid who stayed out of trouble and kept a steady girlfriend and made the right choices in life. Tony had also put up with a whiny, selfish asshole of an ex husband who only thought about himself and how to be the most dramatic to get attention.

“That’s really good, Peter,” Steve said softly.

Whenever he imagined Peter in his head, it was always that chubby-cheeked baby that squealed with delight whenever Steve voiced a stuffed animal.

No bruises had ever colored that peachy-pink skin. No nights had ever ended with Peter getting his stomach pumped at the hospital.

Really, Tony had raised two children.

“If this has something to do with Jackson, please don’t think like that, Pops,” Peter said. “You’re my dad first. Always. Jackson’s just my new dad, y’know? He’s really cool.”

“I know he is,” Steve said, flinching as he drew blood at the edge of his thumbnail. “He’s a great guy. Speaking of which, you should probably be off to dinner soon, right?”

“Yeah. Okay, well, I love ya, Pops. We’ll hang out soon, I promise. Maybe I’ll come up for Easter.”

“Yeah. Tell the family I said hi.”

Peter didn’t even hesitate. “Will do. Talk to you soon.”

He owed Tony a thank-you. For raising their son and letting him pursue his dreams at his own pace. A young scientist already featured in magazines worldwide, but still in the same year of school as the rest of the people his age. Tony had really learned from his childhood mistakes to turn Peter into far more than a chubby-cheeked baby boy.

Steve laid back onto his bed, still breathing.

Peter wouldn’t come for Easter.

Still pretending.

He could finally sell his wedding ring, he realized as he picked out shapes in the ceiling patterns above.  He could erase himself from this world in all but his being, and so long as he kept up the façade when people started feeling guilty and called him to make sure he hadn’t killed himself since last time, nobody would notice or care.  If he didn’t ask, Peter would never visit again, except maybe when his first child was bring and he and Mary Jane needed a break.

No, they would go to Tony and Jackson. Much closer.

Steve would be the name they wrote on their Christmas cards and the strange man in Maine that bought their grandpas a falcon statue for their wedding. The strange man who Daddy visited sometimes when it had been too long to be politically correct. But only sometimes.

Steve would probably never even see his grandchildren. He might very well outlive them, but they would never know him.

Captain America would be gone without a trace, literally. No survivor to carry on the Rogers family name, the awful genes.

Oh god, things would have been so much worse for Tony if they would have used Steve for the surrogate. What a horrible, awful life that child would have had to endure. Braces, crutches, wheelchairs, month-long doctor’s visits. Tony probably would have gotten him arrested for child abuse just because he should have known any child of his would turn out sickly and weak.

Steve sighed, and he swore the color was raining from his room. All of the warm oranges of the sunset seemed suddenly muted and worn.

He could never kill himself.

The last thing he wanted was to put Tony and Peter on the spot like that, forcing them to look like they were grieving for all of the cameras. They would curse his name under their breath, for leaving them to come up with some sort of tribute to honor Captain America. To make up stories about a sad man with a dismal, uneventful life since thawing out of the ice. A man who had dragged everyone down who mistakenly came too close. Tony would complain to Jackson about how fucking awful it was to have to be in charge of handling the public’s mourning for his ex.

Pseudo immortality had always been daunting, but this was so much worse. He was stuck alive to save what was left of his family from the hassle of organizing all of  his arrangements.  And Bucky would lose himself to grief and potentially go rogue or something equally as bad.

Alive, people could stay away from him without feeling bad about it. They could be perfectly happy without the guilt, the wondering if there was anything they could have done.

His phone buzzed again, but just once.

 

_Missed you at the reception, Captain Hermit. Come exploring with us? :) – NR_

 

Steve stood up from the bed and went over to the vanity. Despite the frown he could feel all the way down to his toes, he looked completely normal. No bags under his eyes or red-rimmed lids. No evidence to the hole-ridden mass of pulp in his chest that might have once been a heart.

He slung his phone up onto the vanity so he could type out a response.

Tiredness had sunken so deep into his bones that he could hardly feel it anymore. But once again, his face was still normal. When he smiled, it was still pretty damn convincing. He tried it a few times just to make sure.

Peter had his family now, and Steve had his place in the dark.

 

_Sounds fantastic. Sorry I didn’t talk you guys earlier, we need to catch up!! Where should we meet?  – SR_

 

 


End file.
